


X: The Album

by jyugoban



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boy Band, Angst and Drama, Celebrities, Implied Sexual Content, Kurosaki Ichigo Needs a Hug, Multi, Past Relationship(s), it's actually alternative, they tend to get ooc, uhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jyugoban/pseuds/jyugoban
Summary: Ichigo Kurosaki and his band Severed Souls take on the world of music.- IchigoXHarem -
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to Tite Kubo, and all songs and lyrics belong to The Driver Era (my inspiration for this)

Beginning in the basement of his dad's shabby abode was the start of a global impact. It was a tight space with a single working outlet. With the multiplying instruments, they would need at least three. The only solution served as a plastic rope of hell. An extension cord looped around the concrete floor; the thick cable was the most loathed thing in existence. After causing a sprained ankle and a cracked phone screen, it called for a retreat to the grimy garage.

Somehow, the garage was better suited for their musical shenanigans. Reluctantly reducing the plethora of instruments to fit the two outlets gave decent room to play. A quartet spent hours upon hours inside immersed in their work. They only ever left to escape the chilled breeze of a cracked window during the winters. The summers had kept the rusty garage door open when it was too stuffy to breathe.

Ichigo Kurosaki, a teenage boy with striking strawberry blond hair and a permanent mean mug, started these sessions. His father, Isshin Kurosaki, had the pleasure of hosting. It wasn't ideal when it kept him from finishing the towers of paperwork sitting on his desk, but it was worth it, watching Ichigo grow as a musician and a person.

His friends, Ikkaku Madarame, Coyote Starrk, and Yasutora Sado, were there along the way too. Ichigo brought them together with the bewildering idea of a band. They were fresh out of junior high school, and spring was coming to its end. The quartet of boys was taking their routine walk to the neighborhood playground when he brought it up. He joyously spewed his dreams of becoming a world-renowned singer.

"What are you talking about?!" A young Ikkaku pulled a large purple lollipop from his wide mouth.

"Use your inside voice." Yasutora or, Chad as Ichigo likes to call him, quietly interjected.

"We're outside, idiot!" Ikkaku yelled at him in defiance. Coyote observed with sleepy eyes.

None of them seriously discussed it until witnessing the flourishing talent of Ichigo. He took the lead role of a school musical in their freshman year in high school. The strawberry blond snatched the spotlight the moment he stepped foot on stage. Every pair of eyes followed his every move and his passion-filled vocals sent the audience into a frenzy. When the performance reached its end, Yasutora pulled Ichigo aside with his hand-me-down guitar already tuned. Coyote and Ikkaku followed close behind, speaking of needing a bassist and a drummer.

Not after long, the desire for fame was mutual. The group practiced every chance they received. The improvement was evident, especially with the lack of classical training. It wasn't easy, songwriting and producing. Finding their style and muse took longer than they would admit. Deciding on a name was even worse, but it was easy to abandon all of Chad's atrocious ideas. They remained nameless for some time until they were officially releasing music.

Coming to the level of amateurs marked the time of their first gig. Ikkaku had gone searching for employers. Although, finding one with good pay was tough. Isshin, who is in no shape or form is qualified to be a manager, sold them off to a "friend" of his.

It was a musty pub downtown owned by a suspicious man named Kisuke Urahara. Being only eighteen years of age, they were allowed under barely legal regulations. Inside of the saloon was no different than a porta-potty. It would be best not to imagine the restrooms. Despite the horrid state of the venue, the performance was of quality. It was a cover of a mainstream pop song but with flare.

By the chorus of demands for an encore, they were a hit. The quartet even gathered a small fanbase, unfortunately consisting of Ichigo's father, the sinister pub owner, and a few elderly ladies on their last legs.

The second gig was at a birthday party, Ichigo's younger sister, Karin's, birthday party. Neither of the siblings was fond of the idea, but their obnoxious father was all for it. It was awkward playing in front of a room full of moody pre-teens. The crowd was tough and foul-smelling. Luckily for the band, the venue was a recreational center. The space was clean - before they arrived - and spacious. The worst part about the whole ordeal was getting picked on by children nearly half their age. It was alarming learning of their rather colorful language.

The summer of their senior year was coming to a close soon, and none of them had any plans of attending another four years of mental torture. They spent hours cooped up in the Kurosaki garage writing their first single, "Preacher Man." After more hours wasted arguing, they settled on a soon-to-be notorious name.

Severed Souls, as they call themselves, independently released their single online and became an overnight sensation. Quite literally, when Ichigo woke to his bandmates shrieking about hundreds of thousands of views in less than twelve hours. It was the first he'd smiled so early in the day. Across all social media platforms, the quartet gained a considerable following. Just days later was the start of constant spamming from persistent record labels and sketchy contract holders.

A man by the name of Toshiro Hitsugaya became their trustworthy manager. After saving the group from an offer that would've violated their rights, he continued leading them through the depths of the music industry. The only thing that kept the young manager from quitting was his faith in himself. It was the right doing because Severed Souls' ever-present success carried on for another year and a half. He grew fond of the rowdy crew and saw the potential in each of them.

Ichigo Kurosaki, the lead vocalist, and his least favorite was the poster child for delinquents. His shaggy strawberry blond hair reached just an inch past his shoulders. Untamed bangs laid over his deep brown eyes. Intricate line art tattoos of numerous colors littered his peach-tinted tan skin. To fit the practically cliched look, he wore various jewelry in his ears. He stood at a disheartening height of six feet. Toshiro found the fact offensive standing at the humbling five-foot-one.

Ikkaku Madarame, the certified drummer, was another definition of unruly. Having not a single hair growing on his head made him an outlier. The same went for his vicious features; skinny eyebrows, piercing black eyes, and his signature cardinal red eyeliner. The cool hue of his skin contrasted with his fiery personality. Not one for too many tattoos, he settled for an inked red dragon on his right scapular. A silver hoop pierces his left nostril, adding to the dangerous look.

Yasutora Sado, the guitarist, was the least troublesome of the bunch. Chestnut brown hair tickled down to his nape. The lengthy waves fell into his earnest coffee-colored eyes. The brown of his skin hinted at his foreign descent. Traditional Japanese and Mexican tattoos adorn his muscled arms. Stylish rings decked out his massive hands, and being a rather large kid - he grew to be a whooping six-foot-five.

Coyote Starrk, the bassist, was the oldest in the band. His dark brown medium-length hair paired well with his stone blue eyes. The dull-colored orbs displayed pure disinterest in a majority of situations. He styled a fair patch of facial hair on his narrow chin. Matching tufts of dark brown hair curled along his chest and forearms. With sculpted muscles, he looked of average build and height.

Visually, the group of four could pass as a gang of sorts. At their first meeting, Toshiro was just about ready to send them all to the floor with his all but fading taekwondo skills. It was only mid-day, but that never stopped criminal activity. A lean man wearing an unflattering suit of cheap material followed the quartet around, harassing them. He wildly waved a small stack of greasy papers in their indifferent faces.

It was almost comedic if not for his persistence. The crazy man wouldn't take no for an answer. Toshiro, who is a properly trained manager, recognized the unprofessionalism with distaste. He addressed the man with clear disapproval. His sharp tongue sent the desperate fool on his way. When the strawberry blond leader of the group acknowledged his kind act, he disregarded the urge to correct his disrespectful tone. The adolescent had a lot of nerve referring to him as "half-pint." Only five minutes into their meeting did they make a deal. If "pipsqueak" could land them three successful gigs, then he'd be deemed their manager, and the band would sign with his company: Bleached Entertainment. If not, then they'd carry on their ways after splitting any money made.

Under his own rules of the company, the manager wasn't allowed to participate in unsupervised arrangements. He didn't bother, seeing that his boss would be happy with his achievement. What he didn't see were the mountains of stress and countless sleepless nights because of Severed Souls and their absurd deal.


	2. Welcome to the End of Your Life

'I hope she likes my moves,

I hope she likes to dance,

Welcome to the end of your life (Yeah)...'

Ichigo is used to spending long nights in the studio, but he isn't fond of it. Sitting for hours hunched over his desk and a migraine hitting his tired head. It was a pain, mentally and physically. Yet, he wouldn't change it for the world if it's what makes his fans happy. He loves his job enough that it's never felt like a job. Nothing has changed since the death trap of a basement and the nostalgic garage. His passion remains.

Sighing heavily, Ichigo leans back into the leather chair. He pulls the bulky headphones off of his ears, haphazardly throwing them to his right. They loudly clack against the soft cushion of the loveseat pushed against the wall. Paying no mind to his act, he takes the red band off of his thin wrist, biting it between his teeth. He pulls his shaggy hair away from his face before tying it into a small bun. Loose strands fall into his tired eyes.

He snatches the lone pen on the cedar wood desk and goes back to work. Blue ink swirls over the once blank sheet of notebook paper. Lyrics hit him left and right, and he doesn't miss a beat, writing them down leisurely. It isn't until he finishes the first verse does he give the instrumental track a listen. It's a solemn tune, Chad's guitar plucking in and joined by Ikkaku with drums and Starrk on bass seconds later. All that's missing is his voice and maybe a sampled sound here and there.

"Hey, Strawberry! It's three in the morning!" The shrill voice of the drummer takes him out of his musical daze. He ignores the door opening and clicking shut. The bald man plops down on the black leather loveseat, completely missing the forgotten pair of headphones. He yelps and comically lifts his right sit bone off the device. Before he could state his complaints, another figure steps into the room.

"Ichigo," The soft-spoken words of Chad make him turn. "We've got work to do."

It's unusual for the guitarist to suggest doing work at such corrupt hours. He's the most responsible in the band and always watched out for them, especially Ichigo. The strange occurrence becomes the elephant in the room, but Ichigo doesn't ask because he needs this time.

The statement makes him smile. "Hell yeah."

The lead singer doesn't question where Starrk is, figuring he's probably fast asleep at their shared apartment. He steps into the dimly illuminated booth, catching the headphones Ikkaku aimed at his face. Chad takes his spot in front of the soundboard, placing his headphones on. Ikkaku decides not to comment on their purple color.

Setting everything else up only takes seconds before they're finally recording. Ichigo's smooth voice dances out of the speakers, harmonizing with the gloomy sound of the instrumental.

'Never thought you'd see the white light (Yeah),

You probably shouldn't run the red light (Yeah),

I know you hope you said your goodbye, I, I, I, I...'

Staying up at such insane hours is unhealthy, but their love for music is even worse. It's easy to tell by the three tired but content smiles of the bandmates. With the first half coming to a close, all that's left is the second. Chad, being the most dependable, calls it a night. He simultaneously drags Ichigo from the booth and praises his charming vocals. Ikkaku follows behind lethargic.

The bandmates slide into the sleek black Sedan of an angry Toshiro. He's practically beet red from his snow-white hair to his feet clad in Gucci. His hands grip the white leather of the steering wheel until his knuckles pale. He parts his lips to shout the profanities dying to leave his mouth for the past three hours.

Sitting directly behind the driver seat, Ichigo lifts his long leg, kicking his foot into the back of the seat.

"What's wrong, Toshi?" He taunts, and Ikkaku obnoxiously laughs.

"You, you little shit!" The manager loses his composure completely, unbuckling his seatbelt to launch himself into the backseat where his biggest headache resides. With Chad in the passenger seat holding him back, he wildly grabs at the strawberry blond, only catching the drawstring of his hoodie. Ikkaku laughs like a mad man, fueling the manager by telling him of his resemblance to a troll doll.

A couple of bystanders wasted from their nightclub adventures spot the rocking of a car across the street.

"Woah, look at that! Maybe we should have some fun of our own?" A male jabs an elbow into his companion's side. With a drunken giggle, his now hookup for the night pulls him into a shadowed alleyway.

The car stops, and a breathless Toshiro sits back down into his seat, swatting Chad's hands away. Ichigo has yet to wipe away his condescending smirk, and Ikkaku masks his cackles with his hand. The "punishment" is over, and the manager is ready to get home. He planned to be home before midnight, but he's stuck babysitting idiots minus Yasutora.

The car speeds off from its spot in front of the company building.

'Wish you would've never thought twice (Yeah),

Never got to save a girls life (Yeah),

Probably should've learned to play nicer,

Now I wish I would've said bye, I, I, I, I...'

Ichigo grumbles when the stubborn lock of their apartment refuses to open. With a not-so-gentle shove from Ikkaku, the door gives.

"You sure you didn't break the lock?" Chad inspects the contraption. Ichigo leaves the scene to his bedroom. Ikkaku from his place in the kitchen denies that he was rough and slams the refrigerator door shut. The foreign descendent shakes his head and closes the door. It automatically locks behind him. He shakes his light jacket off his shoulders and hooks it on the wall-mounted coat rack.

The final two leave to their rooms with an inaudible goodnight.

Finding an apartment with four bedrooms, two bathrooms, and decent rent was impossible. Though, their success has graciously filled the dent in their pockets. Now, expenses were the last of their worries. The record deal they signed gave them enough publicity to last them the next ten years.

Bleached Entertainment is a literal dream. The contract that the band signed with the CEO was flexible beyond belief. They were allowed all creative freedom as long as it was approved to be released. There was no need to rent any studio space or time. Instead, giving the manager a call beforehand would do the job. The pay is stunning, and the amenities are exceedingly convenient. It's almost too good to be true.

Late morning comes, and the band works around each other, finishing the last minutes of their routines. Ichigo is brushing his teeth while Starrk showers. Ikkaku is snoring over his bowl of cereal, and Chad thoroughly brushes the knots out of his waves. The quartet doesn't leave until another thirty minutes of running around the apartment.

In a replay of last night, the band gets into the black Sedan, where their manager is grim as usual. He doesn't speak and nor does Ichigo. Chad takes his usual place in the passenger seat while Starrk and Ikkaku sit next to Ichigo in the back. The car ride is suspiciously quiet until Ichigo mumbles about being hungry. Toshiro ignores the vocalist and continues up the beltway, passing a strip of restaurants and a shopping center.

"Yo, I wanted to stop at Soul King's and get a burger! Where the hell are you going?!" Toshiro jerks as the back of his seat accept a beating from Ichigo.

"You have a shoot in six minutes! Damn it, Ichigo!" He yells, and the pain behind his eyes makes him flinch.

"If you keep shouting, your head will explode." Chad's comment is accompanied by a passive expression, and it makes him flush a vivid red. The rest of the car ride is silent except for the low hum of the radio and the occasional snore from Starrk.

The car comes to a stop in front of a tall modern building. Toshiro ushers the band out of his vehicle to search for a parking space in peace. Ichigo stands with a hand on his hip, shielding his eyes with the other as he gazes up the tall structure. It's a stark white color with long black windows. Neatly trimmed shrubs line the front.

"Come on, Strawberry! Watcha waitin' on?" Ikkaku slaps his back, gripping his shoulder firmly. Ichigo looks back to his bandmates, a distant expression on his face. He mumbles something inaudible before walking to the double glass door.

The interior is nothing but marble and glass. Starrk keeps his hands to himself out of fear of breaking anything. The quartz floors are shined to perfection. Chad stares at his reflection. The beige walls are made of rough material, similar to stone. Potted plants are scattered along the walls next to abstract paintings and in the corners near hand-carved statues. Everything from the silver chandelier to the plush rug looks nothing short of expensive.

"Severed Souls?" A petit woman dressed sharply in a black suit with brown pin curls that fall to her shoulders blinks owlishly at them.

"Yeah," Ichigo scratches the back of his head. His permanent scowl is enough to make the woman nervous. "That's us."

She avoids eye contact as she asks for them to follow her. They enter an elevator larger than one of average size. Inside, the flooring is black and gold tiles that match the black walls and gold trims. The buttons also fit the theme being a shiny black with golden painted numbers. The woman pushes the intricate designed number seven. Gradually, the doors close, and the elevator rises. A soft tune of a piano fills the silence as they wait for their stop.

The short ride is over and the woman leads them down the left-wing of the long hall. She abruptly halts, spins to face the quartet, and bows at a ninety-degree angle. She apologizes profusely for reasons the band doesn't know.

"My name is Momo Hinamori! My apologies for not introducing myself sooner!" Momo keeps her position until a deep voice, layered with a slight accent, brings her out of her panic.

"It's alright, Momo." Chad's lips are pulled up in a rare smile. She can't fight the blush that blooms onto her pale cheeks. She stands up straight, sending them a curt nod and continuing down the hall. Eventually, she leaves them at their destination: a glass door outlined in black with black lettering.

"Studio A!" Ikkaku reads and yanks the door open. He announces their presence, and the working team of photographers stares with wide eyes. Four stylists are on them in seconds, pulling them to another room inside the studio. It's a dressing room with racks of clothing lining the dull walls, and makeup and hair products cover every suitable surface.

Immediately Ikkaku is protesting about the makeup, practically shoving the stylist away. Chad looks about ready to leave, and Starrk willingly sits to have his hair styled. Ichigo follows his stylist to his chair with a low sigh.

The vanities are bordered by blinding circular bulbs, and the leather chairs in front of them are decently comfortable. Ichigo relaxes into the chair farthest to the left. He closes his eyes as the stylist runs her experienced hands over his hair. She plays with the long, strawberry blond strands before picking up a sleek purple flat iron. She asks him rather unprofessional questions as she works. Ichigo chuckles now and then from the absurdity of it all. 

'Now it's just me and a mirror,

Can't tell if I'm really here,

I think I'm leaving this body (Why, I, I, I, I)...'

"Rangiku," Ichigo drawls. "What are you going on about?" She leans forward as she giggles. Her strawberry blonde hair falls forward into his eyes, which were boldly locked on her well-endowed chest. A high-pitched laugh escapes her lips, and she lightly punches his shoulder.

"Oh, Ichigo, you're so funny."

"Flirting on the job, Matsumoto?" The said woman perks up straight and stiffly turn to her addresser.

"Toshiro, babe!" The pet name has everyone present turn their heads, a common thought runs through their minds.

Babe?

"Wait, Toshiro is bagging chicks like Rangiku?!" Ikkaku's outburst has Ichigo cringing, but Starrk snorts amusedly.

"Shut up, Pinball! We're running late because of you." The manager spits his final complaints on the drummer then leaves after a torturous five minutes. Ikkaku whistles about him avoiding the question.

Their appearances are complete in less than an hour, but the photographers and editors are still adjusting the setup. The band helps themselves to the table lined with snacks and drinks while they wait. Their conversation turns bland when Starrk chimes in about his younger sister. He gushes about his "little Lilynette", and his bandmates just stand and watch. Ichigo looks to his right in disinterest as he sips a tiny cup of cran-apple juice. Chad saves them by bringing up their attire. It's a promotional photoshoot, so the concept is simple. The color palette is made of black, red, and white.

Ikkaku wears a blood-red leather jacket that compliments his fiery eyeliner. A black sleeveless top is tucked into his black jeans with wide rips in the knees. On his feet are heeled red Chelsea boots where a single white stripe runs up the side.

Chad is dressed in a white distressed tee, straight black jeans, and black boots. The focal point is his hair. He has a side part that pushes his waves to the left, where they fall into his eye. His right side is revealed, showcasing the strength in his defined jaw, and the depths of his brown eye.

Starrk wears shiny black leather pants that irritate the area around his crotch and a black vest with nothing underneath. The most comfortable part of his outfit would be the bold white fur loafers on his feet. His hair is pulled back into a ponytail, and loose waves frame his chiseled face.

Ichigo's torso is exposed in a cropped red graphic tee. Black fitted jeans adorn his long legs as bright red Converse cover his feet. His hair is left out, and it falls to his upper back and over his smokey eyes. He insisted that he didn't need the makeup, but Rangiku is the epitome of stubbornness. She claimed he needed something to accentuate his brooding eyes.

'Take me to heavenly hills,

With all the roses and pills,

Where you can bury this body...'

The photoshoot starts fast with solo shots. Chad went first, awkwardly posing with the stool he was given. It wasn't long until he got comfortable, moving his body with ease. Behind the camera, Chad was reserved and hesitant, but when he stepped in front of the lens, he was an absolute heartthrob. He radiates confidence with his relaxed body language and a sly smile.

Ikkaku isn't very expressive, but the photographer ate it up. As if she was in love with him, she'd praise his vicious energy, and crooned when he glared directly into the camera. It's disturbing to watch her blatantly drool over the drummer. Although, it was the unexpected blush blooming on Ikkaku's face at a particular comment that sent his bandmates into a frenzy.

If not for the yawns he often let out, it'd seem like Starrk was on the verge of tears. His posture is relaxed until the flash of the camera temporarily blinds him. His shoulders stiffen, and he squeezes his misty eyes shut. The dramatic way his body flinches makes everyone bow their heads in exasperation. Luckily, the team can snap a few satisfactory shots promptly.

The highly anticipated star of Severed Souls, Ichigo, doesn't disappoint. He shapes his body with ease, giving the All-Star models of today a run for their money. No side is his bad side if the whistles and hollers he receives as he changes facings mean anything. He ignores his bandmates teasing about his shapely backside.

Two assistants huddle the band together in front of the camera. Rangiku is reapplying a lip balm to Starrk's chapped lips. Momo makes an appearance next to Toshiro in the far corner of the room. The two talk animatedly with light smiles. Ichigo watches the scene curiously, but the flash of the camera and a shout snaps him out of his daze. He focuses his attention forward and glares. Chad swings an inked arm around his shoulders and smirks.

Someone lets out a cheer as the photo shoot comes to an end and the team begins cleaning. Starrk hastily enters the dressing room to rid himself of the tight material constricting his legs. Ichigo, Chad, and Ikkaku follow him tiredly. After a torturous four hours of holding 'artistic' poses and being abused by fluorescent lights, the band was ready to head home.

"I hate to say it, but you have an interview with Reaper Weekly." Their manager enters the dressing room with a solemn expression. His statement earns him a chorus of groans, and he sighs, nodding his head. He knows his bed is calling for him, but the money is practically begging for him. He warns the band to meet him out front in ten minutes.

"Aw, Ichigo," Rangiku coos, tickling his chin with manicured fingers. "Don't be sad. You can always come and visit me." She slips a hot pink sticky note into his back pocket. She pulls away after firmly gripping his rear end. He only nods, lightly pressing his lips over her cheek. She moves out of his way and out of the door.

As he grabs his phone and its charger, he notices the sudden emptiness of the room. The lead vocalist stretches out his tired limbs as he yawns. He grabs his royal blue hoodie, pulling it over his head. He joins his members outside of the studio, where they waited. Following the route down the hall, Ichigo admires the modernist artworks hung on the clean walls.

A button glows red and the elevator is set to descend. The doors open with a subtle ding, presenting a male with striking red hair and thick-lined tattoos running over his neck and jaw. By the look of astonishment on his face, the band's appearance is unexpected, and the feeling is mutual.

Ichigo freezes as if he was submerged in a tub of ice. "A-Abarai?!"


	3. Nobody Knows

(Yeah, here we go)...'

It's six in the morning, and not even the birds are chirping. It's still dark outside; the sun hasn't risen just yet. Starrk opens his mouth wide for a loud yawn. He rolls around in the comfort of his Queen sized bed, stretching at odd angles. He flips the fluffy white blanket off of his body. Hissing at the cold air that nips at his bare legs, he clumsily slips on a pair of joggers he found on his floor. He reaches around for something to cover his bare torso.

In search of his favorite hoodie, he scratches his scalp through his unruly hair.

"I need a wash." He mumbles to himself when he feels the dryness on his fingers.

After a useless search in the laundry room, Chad and Ikkaku's bedrooms, he stops in front of the lead vocalist's room. He gingerly knocks and opens the door without waiting for a response.

"Ichi, have you seen my-" A seminaked woman brushes past him, briskly tugging on her shirt. Before he could speak again, another woman with pale blonde hair rushes out of the door, following after the other female. The two girls must be friends by their whispering and giggling as they exit the band's apartment.

"Wow," Is all the bassist says as he watches a groggy Ichigo sit up from the flurry of sheets.

"Two this time, huh?" He barely dodges a pillow thrown at his face and flinches when it grazes his cheek. Why was it wet?

He sighs while folding his arms, leaning in the doorway. "Look, I know seeing Renji again threw you off, but don't you think this is a bit much?"

"That's the most I've ever heard you say to me," Ichigo responds, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He stands from his bed, unbothered by his nudity. He strolls to his dresser, a yawn on his chapped lips. He rummages through the drawers for something to wear. His bandmate watches with a blank expression.

'Here she comes again to reap from the new band...'

'Contoured her face to face all her new friends...'

Starrk opens and closes his mouth, contemplating his next words. If he says what he wants to say, there's a great chance of Ichigo punching him square in his face. If he doesn't say it, then he'd be sugar coating. Ichigo is a grown man who should be able to take simple advice.

"Be the bigger person and apologize." He blurts and the vocalist freezes at his statement. "Renji fucked up, but you did too you know?"

The bassist cowers when his bandmate faces him with a harsh glare. The color of his cheeks and ears are crimson. His breath visibly catches in his throat, and his shoulders start shaking. He puts his hands over his face, trying to ease himself. Strangling his friend wouldn't be the smartest idea.

"Starrk," His voice is strained. "Get the fuck out of my room."

Chad quietly moves down the hall to the kitchen. He casts a glance over Starrk's shoulder but doesn't bother stopping. He's heard enough of his bandmate's argument to not bother jumping in. Usually, it's the same argument every few months or so. Starrk confronts Ichigo about his behavior and tells him to apologize, although the situation was years ago. If he was honest with himself, Chad still felt uneasy about it.

He enters the modern kitchen with marble countertops and steel appliances. Opening one of the cabinets, he pulls out three pots and begins cooking. It's still early and maybe too early to make breakfast, but they have a long day ahead of them. Especially if Ichigo and Starrk are starting their argument at a quarter to seven in the morning.

Minutes later, the savory scent of sausage and eggs waft from the kitchen. Starrk looks at Ichigo expectantly.

"Chad is even cooking for you." The bassist follows Ichigo with his eyes as he briskly walks past. He turns over his shoulder to follow close behind.

"It's been two years, Ichigo. I'm not telling you to get over it, but that's exactly what I'm telling you, and when was the last time you talked to Rukia?" They enter the kitchen, moving around the island to sit at the dining table. The black steel and crystal glass tremble under Ichigo's hands as he grips the edges of the table.

"My God! Can you stop grilling me about it? And I thought we agreed not to speak of her?" The forbidden name makes him cringe. He glares at Starrk, sending a warning with his eyes.

'Yeah, too much buzz, this stuff don't help decisions,'

Kneelin' by her bed to make up for her sins (Makes sense)...'

"I'm just saying," Starrk scratches the hair on his chin. "You only sleep around like that when something's goin' on."

"Starrk," Chad places a heat resistant mat underneath a pan of steaming food on the dining table. "You're being insensitive." Ichigo's mouth waters at the smell of seasoned potatoes. He makes sure to fill his plate before Ikkaku, and his bottomless stomach makes an appearance.

"But I'm trying to help, and he's still writing songs about her." The vocalist flushes at the statement. He balls his fists, frustration clear on his face. He pushes his seat back, purposefully dropping his plate down. Bits of food jump at the impact, splattering over the crystal surface of the table. Chad lightly grimaces at the mess.

An oblivious Ikkaku stumbles into the room, smiling as if he hit the lottery. Ichigo scowls at his optimism, brushing past him. Their shoulders bump roughly, and Ikkaku hisses at the sharp pain shooting down his arm.

"What the fuck, Strawberry?!" He howls, gingerly holding the area in pain. Ichigo ignores him, continuing down the hall to his bedroom. The sound of his door slamming shut echoes loudly, and Starrk fails at masking his flinch.

"He's twenty-three and still acts like he did when we were teenagers."

"That's a part of his boyish charm. I heard the fans adore it." Chad interjects, not helping.

''Cause everyone knows your heart, your heart,

Everyone knows your heart, your heart,

May not deserve your heart, your heart,

Everyone knows your heart, your heart...'

Ichigo runs his hands over his face and through his hair. He hisses when he pulls on a tangled strand.

"Fuck them." He doesn't mean the insults he spits under his breath, but it's relieving the building tension in his shoulders. His anger subsides after another three minutes of planning murder. He sighs heavily, falling back onto his bed. He narrowly avoids the dried spot of bodily fluid from his sexual adventures of the previous night and blankly stares at the white ceiling. 

I shouldn't have to apologize for shit. He thinks to himself bitterly. 

Renji Abarai is the one to blame. If he wasn't so self-absorbed and envious, then the entire situation could have been avoided.

His thoughts drift to the lack of noise from above. No one lived above them except an elderly lady who probably never got out of bed. Ichigo assumed her time was coming to an end, but she's been here long before their three years living in this complex. He's not once seen her but she's most likely too old to stand up straight. He only knows of her presence because the landlord called her "an old hag" when Chad asked about any neighbors.

He's brought out of his daydream by a gentle knock on the door. He ignores it and closes his eyes, sighing deeply.

"Hey, shithead, it's me. Open the door." His manager's low voice makes him scowl. Toshiro's tone is uncharacteristically soft and Ichigo wonders what he's planning. He pulls himself up to open the door.

A wide-eyed Toshiro stares up at him. "Take a shower. You smell awful."

Ichigo's frown deepens. He pulls the door back an inch to slam it shut, hoping it would connect with his manager's nose. Toshiro is one step ahead and places a foot on the threshold. He forcefully pushes the door open, shoving Ichigo in the process.

He makes himself comfortable on the large dark grey beanbag in the corner. He crosses his legs, resting his folded hands on his knees. Ichigo closes the door before sitting on the edge of his bed. 

"Ichigo," He glances up at his manager. "I know we both have our differences, and you always give me a hard time-"

"No, you give me a hard time too-"

"Shut up and let me be civil for once." Toshiro runs a hand through his frosty hair. "I need you to explain what happened."

When Ichigo opens his mouth, eyebrows already furrowed, Toshiro holds a hand up. His turquoise eyes are stern.

"I heard from your bandmates that you've been acting up since your encounter with Abarai."

"Define acting up-"

"Kurosaki!" By the rare use of his last name, Ichigo closes his mouth to listen.

"One night stands are a rare occasion for you. You're a ladies' man, but you're not one to carelessly indulge in their advances." Ichigo scoffs but doesn't look at Toshiro. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, he's right.

'Nobody knows she likes to dance like a mad man,

Nobody knows she wants to dance like his girlfriend...'

"Renji just makes my blood boil," Ichigo says lamely. "After what he did to me- to us...I hate him."

Toshiro raises an eyebrow at the frustration in his tone. He doesn't speak, letting the vocalist rant.

"You remember that Battle of the Bands thing we did a few years back?" He continues without waiting for an answer. "Renji and his stupid band challenged us. We met through a mutual friend and were cool, but when he found out about Severed Souls, he turned into an asshole."

Ichigo inhales deeply in an attempt to get his thoughts together. "His band, The Gotei, were really popular at the time, so any other up and coming bands were a threat to him. He wanted to prove himself as the best." 

He rolls his eyes. "They performed first and we were supposed to go second. We were all set, but we couldn't even get to the chorus before everything went to shit."

Ichigo recalls the lights going out and the plug on his microphone being pulled. His heart had dropped to the pit of his stomach at the realization.

"They sabotaged us so they could win by default. Renji got what he wanted but the director gave us a second chance. They fucking loved us." Ichigo humorlessly laughs at the memory. The cheers for an encore were music to his ears.

"They still won the title." Toshiro states and Ichigo scowls but confirms it by nodding.

"I wouldn't have done what I did if I hadn't seen her." Toshiro gazes at him curiously, wondering who he was referring to.

"Rukia Kuchiki, the mutual friend." Toshiro makes an O shape with his mouth.

"She came backstage congratulating him on their "well-deserved win", so I-" He sighs at the nasty feeling churning in his stomach.

"I hit him." Ichigo reminisces the feeling of his fist connecting with his jaw. "I was angry at the both of them, but I'd never put my hands on Rukia so, I hit Renji instead."

"We were disqualified when Renji went and snitched. The guys were mad at me for a while, but it's over now." He finishes, wishing he had water to soothe his drying mouth.

Toshiro just nods in understanding. He thinks deeply, resting a hand on his chin. He keeps silent for another few minutes until Ichigo huffs in annoyance.

"What, Einstein, what's your problem?" Toshiro jumps at the name. His cheeks redden, his hands slightly trembling, aching to squeeze the life out of the man in front of him. Instead, he speaks with a cold tone. 

"Starrk is right." Ichigo abruptly stands, his composure falling between his fingers. Toshiro continues unbothered.

"You do need to apologize to Renji and Rukia for causing a scene-"

"It wasn't a scene!"

"...but Renji is also at fault." Toshiro rises from the beanbag, brushing nonexistent dirt off his pants. He folds his arms, sitting back in his hip, somehow making himself appear taller than he is.

"Just think about it. I've read a lot on The Gotei," He meets Ichigo by the door. He places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. 

"And you have nothing to worry about. They don't compare." With that, he leaves, closing the door behind him.

"Damn right they don't," Ichigo mutters.

'He was always taught to hold back and blend in,

Dress like your friends 'cause trends help you fit in, alright,

Yeah too much buzz, this stuff don't help decisions,

Too much buzz, these drugs don't help decisions, oh...'

Ichigo has to clear his mind of the past events that continue to haunt him because, in less than five minutes, he has a meeting with some establishment. He's unsure of who requested to interview them, but he remembers Toshiro mentioning a Reaper Weekly. Severed Souls has worked with them before, and Ichigo relaxes at the thought of familiar faces. 

On the set, there are four black leather stools for them to sit on. The backdrop is an eggshell white, and Ichigo sighs in relief. It won't clash with his hair for once. He eyes the bulky camera and the bored man behind it. Unfortunately, the interview is being recorded, and Ichigo curses himself for sleeping a maximum of three hours the night before. It isn't anything a layer of concealer can't fix. 

After being abused by beauty blenders and eyeliner pencils, the band is seated and the camera is rolling. A few feet away from the group who sits centered, another man sits with a small stack of cards in his hands. He's dressed casually and would look completely average if not for the number sixty-nine tattoed on his cheek. A second camera off to the side focuses on him.

How the hell did he get a job as a journalist? Ichigo wonders. 

"Hello, viewers all around the world! I'm Shuuhei Hisagi, and I'll be your host for today. This time, our guests are the worldwide known band, Severed Souls!" Shuuhei announces. 

He asks trivial questions that get rehearsed answers. The minutes pass slowly, and the band quickly turns bored at the stale conversation. Eventually, the questions become interesting enough to have the quartet think of decent answers. Shuuhei ends up asking them the burning questions of their fans.

"This one is for Ichigo." He reads off of a tablet, "IchigosSlave asks, 'How many tattoos do you have, and could you tell us what one means?'"

Ichigo coughs at the username, choking on his saliva. He quickly recovers to answer, "I have about fifteen, and-" He inspects his arms, deciding which one to explain. 

"This one here," He points to a delicately drawn quill feather on his tricep. "Is inspired by Shakespeare. He's one of my favorite writers." 

Ikkaku proceeds to tease him about what he does in his free time. Shuuhei interrupts him with a question, "ChromeDome asks, 'What shoe polish does Ikkaku use to keep his head so shiny?'" 

Chad snorts, quickly covering his mouth to shield the smile creeping onto his face. Ichigo doesn't hide his amusement and laughs until tears form at the corner of his eyes. Starrk hunches forward, wheezing. Ikkaku watches his bandmates with a locked jaw. He glares hard, sucking his teeth. 

He speaks through clenched teeth, "Next question, please."

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, comments, and constructive criticism are greatly appreciated.


End file.
